


for the money, for the show

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Kinktober 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16232777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “You’re a real peach, sweetheart.” Adelaide breathes, seemingly pleased she won’t have to turn away what’s apparently a well paying and frequent customer. “Name’s Jacob Seed. He’s at the Grandview Hotel, up in the Whitetails. Room 301.”





	for the money, for the show

This is definitely not what Rook planned for when he left sleepy Iowa for Hope County, Montana. He’d seen the job listing, applied, lied a bit when the Sheriff had asked him if he lived nearby, plane tickets and uhaul arrangements already pulled up in another tab. He just wanted out, wanted something new after the military. Wanted a real job he could claim on his taxes that, admittedly, might not make as much but one that he could tell people about.

A Sheriff’s Deputy in Hope County made enough for a small apartment, with enough money leftover to live comfortably. Price of living differences and all that. His background more than made up for lack of academy training and the Sheriff had been happy to hire him on.

Except. And there was always a fucking exception.

Except Deputy Rinds, who was supposed to retire two weeks before Rook finished the final touches on decorating his apartment, decided to stay for another six months. Save up just enough to pay off his house before settling into the grand old years. 

Rook gets it. He does. He understands making smart decisions like that. But _fuck_ Deputy Rinds.

The Sheriff had been mortified, apologetic, offered to help him find a new temp job for the time being. But temp jobs wouldn’t fill his bank account like Rook needed them to and he’d just shelled out a down payment and the first month’s rent. Not to mention the fees for moving across the country.

Luckily, he’s not an idiot. He always has a backup plan, even if it’s one he _really_ doesn’t want to use. His job before was just unconventional enough it’ll work here too, though he’ll probably have to be a little more cautious about it.

Still. All it takes is one phone call to Andrea--”call me Andy, for fuck’s sake, I don’t need more reasons to hate my parents”--and he was on the list for right here in good old Montana. Transferred to someone called Adelaide who referred to him as “baby” and “sugar” and had an accent that made Rook think of apple pie and moonshine. 

It’s Adelaide who calls him up just as the clock is ticking over to midnight, voice a little hesitant as Rook already starts to gather up his dinner and make his way upstairs to his “box o’ fun”, as Andy had once affectionately referred to it.

“Sweetheart, got a job if you’re interested. But you’d better let me tell you the details.”

“Am I gonna get punched in the face or marked up otherwise?”

“Well, no, of course not. He ain’t like that, seems like he is but none of my boys have ever had a complaint about him before.”

Rook thinks it’s cute she refers to them as her boys. Like a mom shepherding around her wayward kids and not an experienced madame setting up safe, sane, consensual meetings for paying johns.

“Then it’s fine by me.”

“Aren’t you an eager one?” She snorts, and there’s a moment of levity before she gets serious. “Look, I know the guy. Well, I know him in passing, ain’t interacted much with him, but that could be said for half of Hope County. He’s real nice, pays in full and tips well. But most don’t go back for a second time with him.”

“What--does he have some weird fetishes or something?”

Rook’s dealt with those before. They do pay incredibly well, but it’s really not worth leaving the comfort of his home or his half-way finished Marvel movie to do something he doesn’t find fun. 

“No, nothing like that. Perfect gentleman from what I hear, run of the mill standard. But he’s--” Adelaide pauses, sighs, sounds a bit sad when she speaks once more. “He’s a veteran. Seen some shit and it left its marks on him. Scarred to hell and back and not just on the body. I’m not saying it’s any of his fault, or he’s lesser for it, but some of the boys are...well. Little bitchy, you know?”

“We’re hookers.” Rook tells her with a roll of his eyes, yanking the sealed container out from under his bed. “We don’t really get to be choosy. So what if he’s got some scars, I’ve got some too. Give me his name and address, I can be there in...an hour or so?”

“You’re a real peach, sweetheart.” Adelaide breathes, seemingly pleased she won’t have to turn away what’s apparently a well paying and frequent customer. “Name’s Jacob Seed. He’s at the Grandview Hotel, up in the Whitetails. Room 301.”

“Am I supposed to tell him I’m room service or something?”

Adelaide chuckles and it’s as dark as it is amused. “Oh, honey. He knows the drill by now. Just knock, he’ll let you right on in.”

It doesn’t take Rook long to get himself ready--he’s far too used to the routine at this point--and he takes a few seconds to primp in the mirror before he heads out the door. His pants are just a little too loose, to make room for any hands that might get shoved down them, and his shirt is a soft cotton black that, according to others, makes his eyes look “fucking amazing, baby.” The Grandview isn’t a terribly long drive and before Rook knows it, he’s pulling into a parking spot, texting Adelaide that he got there safely. 

He grabs for his backpack--which looks a hell of a lot like a pizza transport bag because Rook isn’t an idiot or looking to get himself arrested--and double checks his supplies. Lube and condoms, naturally, some plugs in case Jacob’s the type to draw it out. A repurposed life alert button that sends a screaming warning to Adelaide’s phone if it’s pressed. A gun, ammo contained in the outside pocket, if things get just a little too heated and the john doesn’t want to take no for an answer. 

Not an idiot.

Rook whistles to himself, holds his bag in his hand as he waves to the bored looking attendant behind the front desk, and starts up the stairs. The jeans chafe a little, no underwear to soften the scrape of harsh material against his skin, but Rook makes it up with little to no wincing, tracking down until he can rap his knuckles against the wood grain of 301.

There’s a pause, the disappearance of a TV in the background, footsteps, and then--

Alright, well, Adelaide wasn’t kidding. Usually Rook has to make something up on the spot, at least give them his name. This time the door just opens, and the harsh lights in the hallway say she wasn’t lying about Jacob Seed’s scars either.

He’s handsome, though. Rugged in a very masculine sort of way, full beard and an undercut both a very pretty shade of red. The scars on his face and the side of his head almost make Rook wince a bit--god, that must have fucking hurt like hell--but he simply smiles and inclines his head.

“Mr. Seed? My name is Rook. Can I come in?”

Some of them like it when he asks first. Rook’s had the door shut in his face a few times with a stern order to “do it again.” Jacob, however, seems more amused than anything else, rumbling out a “be my guest” with a wave of his hand.

Okay, yeah. There’s a drawl in his voice and it’s nothing close to Adelaide’s Montana accent, which is good because Rook’s _definitely_ gonna be hearing the gravel rough twang of it in his wet dreams for a few nights. 

“What’s that?” Jacob asks, closing them in together with a soft snap.

He doesn’t need to gesture to Rook’s bag, he already knows what he’s talking about. Jacob doesn’t seem like the type to waste words. 

Which is a pity because Rook really wishes he could hear more of that voice.

“Goodie bag.” Rook lifts it before putting it on the ground near the opening to the ensuite. “Fun stuff for us. And a few things for me.”

“Your panic button and--let me guess.” Jacob surveys him up and down, Rook fighting the urge to shiver at the intelligence behind his eyes. “Gun, right? You seem like someone more comfortable with a gun than with pepper spray or some bullshit like that.”

“It’s a gun, yeah.” No point in lying, he gets the feeling Jacob would instantly be able to tell. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I’m afraid you’ll have to request someone else. I don’t go into clients rooms without it, and I won’t give it to you.”

Jacob grins, quick as lightning and gone just as soon but leaving Rook with bubbling butterflies in his stomach.

“Good boy.”

“Do you _want_ me to be a good boy?” 

Rook knows this game. It’s fun, if a bit troublesome because he’s not nearly compliant and submissive enough to enjoy it most of the time. But he might just...with Jacob, at least. 

But Jacob doesn’t seem particularly interested, crossing his arms and shrugging. There’s something close to a curl in his broad--so fucking broad, jesus christ--shoulders. Rook hesitates to call it self-conscious, because he’s pretty sure Jacob’s never been self-conscious in his life, but it’s...something. 

“Whatever you want. I’m just here to have some fun.”

“And I’m here to make sure you do.” Rook crosses the distance between them, runs gentle fingers over Jacob’s forearms and up over the army jacket that covers his biceps. “Tell me what you need, Jacob.”

Jacob’s fingers flex when he unfolds his arms, flex again once they’re on Rook’s hips, tugging him in close. Rook goes willingly, tipping his head up slightly to keep holding Jacob’s gaze even as he winds arms around his neck. It’s almost close to intimate, if not for the shuttered and defensive look in Jacob’s eyes.

Coaxing then. Rook can coax. He extends a thumb, rubs it against the close cut that’s starting to grow in again near the nape of Jacob’s neck.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jacob sucks in a breath, lets it out through clenched teeth. His eyes flare wide for a split second before the barriers slam back down.

“Thought you guys didn’t kiss.” He grumbles, eyes flickering around like he’s waiting for the punchline. 

Rook laughs, shrugs, leans forward for a quick peck.

“Some of us don’t. But I don’t mind it, I like it. And you seem like you’re good at kissing, Jacob.”

He is. He’s a bit rough, all-consuming, tongue thrusting rudely into Rook’s mouth. But he slides a hand around to Rook’s lower back to keep him in close and keeps making pleased little growls, and it’s good, it’s _great_.

“Cute as this is,” Rook’s starting to get hard, which is novel in and of itself because he typically doesn’t. “You brought me here to fuck me.”

He pulls back, watches Jacob follow for a split second before he reigns it all in again and straightens. Fuck, Rook wants to break that self-imposed control. Wants it to shatter and see who Jacob is when he isn’t pretending to be calm and well-behaved.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Jacob?”

He does. And it’s the best fucking sex Rook’s ever had. Stamina doesn’t seem to be an issue for Jacob, and neither does patience. He’s gentle when he stretches Rook open, bats his own hands away with a muttered “let me do it.” His hands are _big_ and Rook’s whining before he even gets the beat up blue jeans Jacob’s wearing open. 

Jacob lets him on top first, which is probably a good thing. Rook does his best to put on a good show, hips rolling, sliding his hands over skin bared by Jacob’s insistent tugs at his shirt, scowl on his lips until Rook had tossed it into some corner. 

God knows he wouldn’t have been able to be on top later. Jacob lets him play his games, show off, until he rolls him onto his back and fucks him so hard Rook can’t speak. Can’t form words. Throat closed up around anything but the pitiful little mewls Jacob’s thrusts force out. 

Normally, Rook pushes johns away if they get bitey, get a little mean. He doesn’t usually want the marks. But he finds himself tugging Jacob’s head closer to his throat, tossing his head back to bare more skin for the not-so-gentle presses of teeth. 

They fuck _everywhere_. On the bed, against the wall, over the unstable little table in the corner. In front of the bathroom mirror with Jacob’s hand fisted in his hair, Rook’s eyes torn between the darkening bite marks and bruises on his own body and the broad form of Jacob’s behind him. 

Jacob comes, finally, blessedly, after Rook’s already come twice and is little more than a whining mess of limbs and flesh underneath him on the floor. It’s not gentle or pretty, more feral than anything else, Jacob growling out a few expletives as he loses his rhythm and slows to a stop between Rook’s thighs.

Rook has to tug on him, seeing the shaking in his arms as he tries to keep his body weight up and off. It’s a little too much, but it’s nice, like a weighted blanket that’s just a touch too heavy when Jacob comes down on top of him with an accepting grumble. Rook pets a hand down his back, over scars and more scars, never lingering or pausing, just touching.

It had been a fight and a half to get Jacob’s clothes off to begin with. Rook yanking his pants and underwear down, tossing them so far across the room Jacob couldn’t grab for them. The jacket had come off when Jacob was on top of him in bed, Rook’s hands pushing until he’d stripped it off with a filthy curse.

The shirt was the final thing to go, Jacob’s hand gripping his wrists for a split second when Rook’s fingers had caught the hem. Rook had just stared, pinned between Jacob’s body and the wall, and pointedly kept pulling until Jacob let him go with a snarled “fine. Fucking have it your way then. I tried to warn you.”

Jacob is scarred, yes, but it’s not...unexpected. Nor does it not fit. If he was nothing but miles and miles of unblemished, untouched skin, it just wouldn’t seem right. Wouldn’t sit well with the constant growl in his voice, the hard wall behind his eyes, the perma-scowl that hangs around his face. 

“This was...fucking amazing.” Rook breathes finally, keeping his touches firm, one hand drifting up to scratch his nails against the buzz of Jacob’s hair. “Jesus. I don’t think I’ve gotten fucked that well in...no. I’ve _never_ been fucked like that.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Jacob says wryly into his collarbone before he pushes himself away with a groan. “You don’t have to pad my ego. I pay either way.”

Rook makes a soft sound when Jacob pulls free, knees coming together automatically as he gingerly sits up, watching Jacob move into the bathroom on unsteady legs. He’s still sitting there when Jacob comes back out, eyes scanning up and down the length of him, smiling benignly as Jacob arches one brow.

“I would love to get up. However, as I was telling the truth and not just feeding your ego, I cannot feel my legs.”

Jacob _laughs_. Short and sharp like it got shocked out of him. It sounds good, and Rook immediately wants to hear more of it. He doesn’t get the chance though, as Jacob leans down and grabs for the hands Rook offer up towards him, levering him gently to his feet.

He guides him backward until Rook can sit and then sprawl on the bed, glancing at the bedside table and the clock sitting there.

Three hours. He and Jacob fucked for three hours. 

Jesus christ.

“You gonna be alright to drive?” Jacob is already getting dressed and it makes Rook want to protest, rolling onto his side to watch all those muscles and scars get covered up again. 

“Should be. If you give me just a few.”

“Don’t rush off on my account.” Jacob shrugs into his jacket last, plucking his dogtags from the dresser and sliding them on. “I’m not keeping the room. Checkout’s at noon. Stay and sleep, if you want, I’ll pay when I go down.”

“You’re not gonna stay the night with me?”

Rook’s teasing, of course. He’s never had a john spend the night, and he certainly doesn’t expect Jacob to. What he also doesn’t expect is Jacob’s imperceptible flinch, there and gone, so small Rook wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t watching closely for any sort of reaction to his words.

“Sweetheart, you don’t gotta pretend.” Jacob leans over him, one hand planted on the bed, looming. “You fucked me. Your job’s done and done well.”

“I’m not pretending.” Rook stretches, tries to drag Jacob’s eyes down to the rest of his body. 

It doesn't work, but he didn’t think it would. Still. No harm in trying. 

Jacob snorts, pushes himself upright, eyes Rook carefully. He seems to be trying to form words in his head, brow down tight, and Rook sits up, reaches out until he can curl his fingers in Jacob’s jeans.

“Hey,” he keeps his voice level, even, careful. “If you wanna request me again, Rook is actually my name. So just...ask Addie for Rook.”

There it is. The surprise, the slight slack in Jacob’s jaw as his teeth unclench in shock. The flare of blueblueblue. Rook doesn’t even want to know what others have said to Jacob, how the aftermath has gone with the others that now refuse to see Jacob.

Why the fuck would anyone in their right mind refuse a fuck that good?

“You wouldn’t mind?” Jacob’s voice does something weird, clenched up tight for a split second before he snorts and it’s all gone. “Glutton for punishment, huh?”

“More like,” Rook sucks his teeth, pretends to search for the right words, “wanting a repeat of the best sex I’ve ever had. Only if you do, of course. No pressure.”

Jacob regards him for a long moment. Clearly trying to see any lie, any subterfuge. He’s not going to find any, but Rook just stares back, smiling broadly. He knows men like Jacob, knows he could talk himself hoarse trying to convince them but it’s not going to work until they accept it themselves.

“Yeah,” Jacob says finally, slowly. No smile but his voice is lighter, somehow. “Yeah. Think I just might. Get some sleep.”

Rook obediently slips under the covers, doesn’t even watch as Jacob shuffles around, doesn’t look up at the now familiar sound of money being tucked into the bedside drawer. There’s a moment of hesitation, the dip of the bed, and the barest brush of a hand over Rook’s hip. And then Jacob’s gone, the door snapping shut quietly behind him.

So Rook didn’t get the job he was expecting. Doesn’t matter. He can wait the six months, roll around with some strangers to pay his rent until then.

As long as Jacob actually does call back? Actually requests him again?

Totally worth the move.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna know what's coming next? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
